


There is no Chosen One

by MartinEA



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everyone Is Alive, M/M, everyone is happy au, except the mage, hes just stinky, i mean hes alive too, natasha is alive, so is lucy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 01:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18561463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartinEA/pseuds/MartinEA
Summary: Lucy Salisbury writes back to her friend in the moment when things are about to go for the worse. The Mage's little ritual doesn't work and instead Simon grows up as a normal (not, you know, Normal), healthy little magician boy.  His only problem is that his magic doesn't really work as good as everyone else's, and in Headmistress Natasha Grimm-Pitch's Watford, that's not the ideal position to be in.His roommate, Baz, is not exactly welcoming, either. Handsome, wealthy and magically gifted - he's everything Simon is not and that stings a little. Especially when he throws it in his face every time Simon tries to make friends. That won't last long, especially when Simon is faced with a mystery he desperately wants to solve. Just how is Ebb so powerful and what happened to her brother? Who is his father and why is everyone freaking out about him?





	There is no Chosen One

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't like how Simon's story developed. Especially how he never learned who his mother and father were. I think he deserves a little more than that. So I decide to diverge from the canon and go down a path where Simon isn't a miserable orphan and Baz doesn't have to worry about being a vampire, and all he has to do is rebel against his mother by dating his magically impaired roommate.

 

**Mitali**

 

When I received Lucy's letter I was weeks into my pregnancy with Penny and indulging myself in a quiet break before I continued studying for my exams.

Martin came in, Premal in one arm, an envelope in the other, and told me my old school friend had written. Excitement warring with anxiety had turned into terror as I read her confessions of how she'd spent her years away with that repulsive man.

 

The last line she'd written was a call for help and I was all ready grabbing my coat by then, yelling to my husband to get the car keys.

 

I didn't even need to cast a finding spell. Of course, he'd had them live in a shack near the school. He was obsessed with it. Morgana, he probably loved it more than he did the mother of his future child.

Martin and I caught them as they were leaving their hut, headed for Watford. Lucy, wrapped in a scarf, her belly protruding through the thin material. He looked manic, disheveled, carrying ancient tomes most likely stolen from the library. The grip he had on her hand looked tight around her thin wrists. Was she even eating?

 

It was a scuffle to get him to let go.

 

Lucy was crying, clutching Martin's arm as I faced him off as the stronger magician between the two of us.

Eventually he was restrained and we alerted the headmistress to what he was up to. We left him there to be dealt with and were quickly back on the road, driving back home.

Lucy sat in the backseat, engulfed in my arms as she shook soundlessly, her frail body trembling with the excitement and the awareness of all the things that could have happened if I hadn’t arrived. I held her and told my friend that she was safe now, far away from him for good and that she was going to be all right.

 

It was days later when she finally decided to properly talk to me about it. About that madman’s ravings about chosen ones, mages, and powerful magical rituals. The horrible things he’d sweet talked her into doing just by being gentle with her after months of neglect.

She told me she’d been afraid to write to me, because then she wouldn’t be able to lie and I would come and whisk her away before she was ready to leave. I asked what had made her ready.

She pressed her hand to her belly, her thinned blond hair framing her drawn face as she said, “It didn’t feel right.  And I wanted him to have a good life. My rosebud boy.”

 

Her son was born a few months later on a spring morning, giving her almost no trouble at all during labor. She remarked later that it felt as if he hadn’t wanted to upset her any more than she all ready had been. A small healthy boy with the earnest blue eyes of his mother. Lucy, healthier now and well cared for by her friends, had embraced him tenderly and had then and there given him his proper name.

“Simon Snow,” she said. I asked why Snow. “Because everyone deserves a silly middle name. Mine is Winifred.”

 

I laughed, relieved and tired, and Lucy did too, past the tears in her eyes, face glowing in the budding sunlight.

Simon Snow was going to grow up happy. And we were going to make sure of it.

 

☼

 

Simon and Penny, who was born in the summer after him, grew up together.

Lucy wasn’t quite ready to go back to her family just yet, not after she’d fought them so hard to stay with that man, so she settled down in London near our house.  She had only had her secondary school education and had no idea where to go from there and since she was the only person whose presence I enjoyed, I suggested she pursue a degree like I did. We’d all ready had one child, how hard would it be to raise a second and a third, now that I had graduated.

 

Suffice to say it wasn’t easy.

 

Simon wasn’t a bad kid. He wasn’t a handful on purpose, he was just… A natural born trouble maker. Combined with a house stuffed with relics from old generations and a sizeable library with ancient texts full of “forbidden knowledge”, it was a constant scramble to not have him upturn a Dipylon Amphora or knock over a pile of translated texts, detailing the development of language syntax throughout the 14th century.

Once they were both old enough to walk freely, though, Penny turned into the main instigator of mischief. What was my intelligence and fortitude and her father’s calculative mind, in her turned out to be the brain of a master tactician. Mostly used for breaking into the closed off wing in the house, where we keep all the cursed artifacts.

 

It was good knowing that my daughter, who took after me, would have at least one true friend she could call to. I just hoped hers wouldn’t bring her quite so much sorrow and worry as mine had.

 

Simon still lived with us unofficially. Even after Lucy graduated and had begun to pursue her career that had been put on hold. (She was looking into ways of stopping the discrimination going on magical creatures and mages with little power. I was apprehensive at her deciding to pick up his politics, but I did see her point. His scathing, spitting words sounded more reasonable when you were looking into her determined eyes. It didn’t matter whose idea it was if it was sound enough).

 

It was a pleasant distraction sometimes, but other times he just felt like a handful I wanted to dump back on his mother.  Especially when he started asking questions.

 

 

He was sitting on my kitchen counter, his notebook open in front of him as he scribbled in his messy indecipherable scrawl. He was almost becoming one of us. I glanced at him as I took a break from my laptop screen and found him looking at me expectantly.

“Sorry, what was that? “

He didn't look annoyed or discouraged, though he must have been calling for me for a while. Another thing that went with being a part of the family. Martin and I were always distracted. It drove 12 year old Premal crazy. Simon, at 9, only blinked and repeated his question.

“Who's my dad? “ He was twirling his pen - or trying to. It kept falling out of his small hands. I picked it up for him.

 

“Why do you ask?  “

 

He shrugged his shoulders, “I asked mom, but she never answers directly. “

 

I knew the question would come. I'd expected it and so thought of many ways to respond. The truth was the only valid answer, of course. A boy his age shouldn't be lied to. And yet it was hard to say his father was a madman who'd been ready to sacrifice his mother and him for the sake of social reform.

 

Or maybe not so hard.

 

“Your father was a murderer, who was ready to do anything in order to accomplish his goals, Simon. “

 

He'd slipped away at some point. Past headmistress Grimm-Pitch's restraint and before his trial for all the times he'd broken into the school and for attempting a forbidden ritual.

Then he'd come back with vampires this time. They'd attacked the nursery and would've Turned all the infants had it not been for that one kid years below me who ran off to be a vampire -Nicodemous Petty. He came just in time to alert everyone and prevent a great tragedy.

 

“He's locked up now. For good. You won't gain anything from associating with men the likes of him.  “  My voice was tight as I said that, my hand clutching my coffee mug perhaps a little too tightly.

I turned back to my computer and focused back on my task to prevent the anger boiling within. The resentment for almost losing her to a good for nothing, homicidal bastard startled me sometimes with its intensity.

 

Simon looked back at his notebook, lips pursed as if musing.

 

“Why would mom even date that guy then. “

 

I leaned back in my chair, opening a new window on the desktop.

“Because sometimes bad people do or say good things that almost make it worth it to hang around. Now go back to your essay, Simon. “

 

Simon turned obediently away and scribbled for a few minutes.

 

“How do you spell 'insidious’? “

 

☼

 

The problem came when Simon’s magic finally showed itself. He was 11 years old and practicing for the Watford entrance exams (something Lucy was preparing to argue against during the next Coven meeting). Lucy had given him a rapier – a heirloom she’d received from her great-grandmother.

We were gathered all in the living room of Lucy’s house. Martin, Penny and I sitting back. Lucy beside him to encourage him. His power should have come through it as he said a basic spell we’d taught him. Penny was watching him, excited, as she sat forward on the couch, hands clutching her plump knees. I was leaning back, wand ready in hand should anything go wrong.

“Some like it hot!” He yelled, voice wobbly with excitement as he pointed the tip towards a plate of biscuits. I winced, expecting it to blow up in flames or start smoking.

Nothing happened.

He frowned, swallowing visibly. Lucy said reassuringly, “It’s okay. Just try again. It’s your first time.”

He did. Nothing happened.

He tried again and again and at that point the fear had settled in us. He was broken. Something had happened to him and he was born Normal. He’d never be able to tap into his source of magical power. Lucy looked frightened. Penny was just confused.

“What’s wrong with you, Simon?  Why aren’t you doing anything?”

Simon was frowning now, annoyed and slightly upset. “I’m trying, Penny, shut it!  Some like it hot!”

Nothing.

And then, out of the blue, the hardwood floor started smoking. Then it grew hot and flames started licking up the tea table’s legs. It grew ever brighter by the second.

“It worked!” Simon threw his hands in the air, rejoicing, as Martin, Lucy and I frantically cast “Make a wish”.

The fire was stoked and Simon and Penny were high fiving each other. Lucy sighed, relieved, and collapsed back in the cushions. I took her hand to steady her. Simon was going to be fine. He was magical after all.

Perhaps a little too magical, though.

His rapier vibrated again and as he drew away from Penny it cast another fire spell. Now the flames were wrapping themselves around Penny’s seat. She shrieked and scrambled off her seat. We were back at it, casting spell after spell to quell the fire, but we were hardly denting it.

 

 

Simon’s rapier kept going off like that through random intervals of time. Every single one of Simon’s “Some like it hot” went off at different periods of time until finally they ran out late into the night. Penny had been taken back home to her brothers.

Once it was done, he’d collapsed asleep on the sofa. Lucy and I were finishing up with the “As you were” ’s around the house so it was restored from its ashy state. Martin walked in with mugs of tea.

“Next time we should maybe have him try out a spell that wouldn’t burn the house down. “Clean as a whistle” maybe.” He handed me my mug and sat next to me. He looked tired. He wasn’t used to wasting so much energy, given his little reserves of magic.

“It’s his fault. I know it,” I found myself finally saying. Staring at Simon’s sleeping face.

“Mitali, please…” Lucy’s voice was small. Her face was covered by her hands.

“He must’ve done something! No one’s magic is so… _staccato_. Definitely not if they can also set fire with a “Some like it hot”!” I was yelling then. God rot the man, who was leaving his dirty finger prints long after we’d gotten rid of him.

“Well what are we supposed to do about it now? Take away his magic and enroll him into a Normal school?” Lucy didn’t raise her voice, she never did, but her voice was cutting and strained. “I can’t do that to him, I’m not going to.”

“Well, he’s certainly not going to be of much use if he can’t control himself. He could hurt the people around him. He could hurt himself!” Lucy was scowling, she was holding Simon’s hand. And then we were fighting. Exchanging cutting, hushed words, so we wouldn’t wake Simon.

I knew deep down my biggest concern was that he wasn’t fit to be in Watford. What if he came out lame and turned out the same as his father. What if he renounced us all, because he didn’t fit in the system and went down that dark, destructive path. I wasn’t having it. And I think Lucy felt what I meant strongly.

Then Martin cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but, Mitali, don’t you think that that’s what Watford is for? To teach magicians how to use their powers?”

I looked at him and frowned, prepared to explain where he was wrong. Sure, magicians who were either powerful or from powerful families, but never had we seen a case like Simon’s uncontrolled bursts of power. He put his hand on top of mine and squeezed gently.

“Simon is powerful and from a powerful family. It’s just that. Maybe it was a minor hic up. If not – then a problem that can be fixed. Don’t write him off just yet.”

Lucy looked at Martin and her eyes filled with so much hope that they almost broke my heart. Why couldn’t Lucy just have a normal life with a normal child. Not a _Normal_ child. Normal.

I relented. I squeezed his hand back, then let go and turned to my friend. My only one. “I suppose it can’t hurt to try. How about we wait a little, though, yeah? Maybe see if things normalize themselves by then.”

“Next year,” Lucy agreed and swiped Simon’s curly bangs off his forehead. He was so small. His skin was a golden hue and speckled with moles from playing too much in the sun. Like Lucy’s own. She caressed his cheek gently. “It will be okay.”

 

☼

 

He ended up enrolling with Penny. A year too late. His magic hadn’t improved at all and deep down I dreaded that it had gotten worse. Simon didn’t notice, though. He thought it was normal that he had delays or that his spells either came out too strong or too weak. Penny didn’t notice either. When she cast her first spell and it came immediately in a steady wave, she just thought she was a natural.

Simon kept asking her about her secret the whole day.

They were packed off for their first term at Watford in August. Lucy was driving the car there, while I looked behind them at the backseat and checked they had everything with them.

“- and remember not to bother the Merwolves. They’re horrible and spiteful and you’re just going to land yourselves in trouble. Dragons-”

“Are not dark creatures and if they attack we should let them go,” Simon and Penny say together. They’re both clutching their rapier and ring respectively, looking through one of the windows to see the ever growing building of the school with the moat surrounding it. “We know!”

“Simon do you see it? Aunt Lucy spell the car faster, please, we’re driving too slow!” Penny was hanging out of the open window.

“Seatbelt!” I snapped and raised my wand to spell it shut. Lucy laughed, her voice ringing like bells.

“Waste of magic.  Mitali, you really should stop teaching her to throw spells around like that. We’re almost there.”

We pulled up by the door of the moat. Both children were in their Watford uniforms – Penny draped in the cloak, Simon buttoned properly for the first time in his life. They were both glowing with happiness that Premal had never shown on his first school day, that sully boy.

Lucy and I took several photos of them on the backdrop of the school. Lucy knelt down and pressed a kiss to Simon’s forehead.

“Be safe, my rosebud boy.” She said and smiled gently at him.

He grimaced and rubbed at where she’d kissed him. “Mom, I am not a kid any more. Everyone is watching me now.” He looked towards the group of other first years, who were similarly cared over by their parents.

Lucy tugged on his ear gently, tutting at him. “You’re never too old to be loved. But if you think you’re so grown up now, go on, big boy. Go and introduce yourself.” She pushed him towards a group of other children and took a couple more photos. Simon ran over to them boldly, sprinting in his smart shorts.

Penny looked more apprehensive about joining in. She was still standing by their bags, hesitant. That wouldn’t do. There was no Bunce alive that would ever feel anxious about something so trivial as small talk with a bunch of children.

“Do you have your mobile with you?” I asked and Penny rolled her eyes and showed it to me, slipping it out of her pocket.

“Good. Call when you get yourself in trouble. Now go on.” I drop a chaste kiss to her forehead and then push her away, her groaning as she walked towards Simon, stomping.

Now that she was out of sight I let myself feel as anxious as I’d been the whole ride there. Lucy stood by me and shared in some of her glowing, steady calmness.

“You look like you’re about to faint, Mitali. It’s just Watford. We’ve been and lived,” she said it gently and with a lot of humor. I snorted.

“You really needn’t have made Penny and Simon text twice daily either. We didn’t have phones back in our day.” She was looking through the photos on her phone now. Smiling down at the little Simon on the screen sadly.

 _Yeah, and look where it got us_ , I think. But don’t say out loud. “I did need to and you’ll thank me for it later.”

We both spot Natasha Grimm-Pitch along with her younger sister Fionna Pitch. Both were fussing with a first year’s tie. Tying it every which way, between the two of them, until the little dark skinned boy with glossy dark hair pulled away to tie it himself. Headmistress Grimm-Pitch was frowning down at him in disapproval, while Miss Pitch laughed at her expression.

“Tyrannus,” we heard her say, a reprimand. “You will behave yourself. And you will do justice by the Pitch name. No Pitch-”

“Has ever dropped out or failed in their classes. Yes, I know.” Tyrannus didn’t roll his eyes, but he held himself as if he had.

“Do not sass me!” His mother was saying as her sister slapped the boy on his shoulder. More in the camaraderie sort of way.

I looked to Lucy “Is the Pitch boy going to be in their year? Maybe we should have them enroll next year after all…”

Lucy only laughed again as if I’d made a joke. I hadn’t. “Oh, Simon will make friends with him. He can make friends with anyone.”

And deep in my heart I felt it was, regretfully, true.


End file.
